


at the intersection of an old romance novel

by pyrality



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Gift Fic, M/M, background swerve/magnus, driftrod as amica endura, post-mtmte
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-01
Updated: 2016-12-01
Packaged: 2018-09-03 13:03:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8714998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pyrality/pseuds/pyrality
Summary: "I think," Megatron murmurs, catching Rodimus' attention even with his soft, even toned voice, "you are becoming spoiled."
  "And who's spoiling me?"
  Megatron hums as Rodimus lies back down on top of him, and he can feel the low rumbling vibrations from the bigger mech's engine pulsing through his armor. "Drift, Ultra Magnus, Swerve. The list goes on." He lets Rodimus kiss him, mouth moving gently against his eager one, and he smooths fingers along Rodimus' lower spinal strut, teasing. "I'm the most guilty though, I suppose."
The one where Megatron and Rodimus have a lazy day to themselves.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mcscouty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mcscouty/gifts).



> bday gift for [leo](http://archiveofourown.org/users/spellthiefs), my best friend!!!  
> he requested some gooey sappy domestic established megarods and who am i to disappoint ;)
> 
> post-mtmte w/ the remaining DJD arc crew + terminus, roller, & other mechs from necroworld on a new, small ship

****"Morning," he greets, voice crackling with slight static as his vocalizer slowly onlines. He grins against Megatron's jaw anyway, "Rise and shine, Megs."

Megatron doesn't say anything immediately, but the sound of his soft ex-vent is still audible in the silence of their room. Rodimus' vocalizer stalls when he feels Megatron's fingers, gentle, barely touching the curve of his waist. He traces the edges of his biolights and then smooths his palm up against him after a few moments, and Rodimus relishes in the soft heat radiating off his hand. Megatron's field is equally warm, and Rodimus tucks his smile into the crook of Megatron's neck at the feelings of contentment and quiet affection washing over him.

"Let's stay in bed," Rodimus suggests, pressing his mouth against his neck. He kisses feather-light along a cable, and Megatron chuckles at the sensation.

"We do have quite a bit of work left to be done, Rodimus," Megatron reminds him, but his tone is light, and his hand is still warm on his waist when he squeezes him. If Rodimus listens, he can hear the very faint happy rumble of Megatron's engine. "Ultra Magnus will be upset with both of his irresponsible captains."

"Oh, he won't even notice if I get Swerve on the case for us," Rodimus suggests, shifting to prop himself to look at Megatron. He's surprised to see the co-captain still has his optics offlined. His wicked grin shifts to a fond smile as the lights of Megatron's optics slowly come online.

"An abuse of power," he chides. Megatron squeezes his waist again, a thumb teasing against the edge of a transformation seam, and Rodimus gasps with a breathless laugh.

He cycles his optics, huffing, "Not like I'd have to give an order for Swerve to distract Mags."

"Yes, their courtship _has_ been going well," Megatron hums, thumb moving away from his transformation seam and Rodimus whines a little.

"Stay in bed," he pouts as Megatron moves to sit up. He presses a hand to his shoulder, squeezing. "C'mon, we had a long week."

Megatron's expression shifts as he regards him, contemplative. "That much is true. We still need to be wary, however."

Rodimus huffs, shifting to sit down on Megatron's midsection and curling his knees up to his chest, the heels of his pedes bumping against the side of Megatron's waist. "You're not going anywhere! Keep me company; that's an order."

Megatron could easily pick him up and set him down. He could just as easily tug him down and roll them over and kiss him until Rodimus forgets what he wanted in the first place. He turns to look at Megatron challengingly, revving his engine but the other mech only smiles.

"Very well, Rodimus, another half an hour to an hour in bed won't be too harmful," he relents easily, lying back down.

He stares at his conjunx having expected a lecture. He expected half-scolding words and a voice trying to be stern with him but is ultimately softness under steel— intangible things Rodimus can kiss away. He huffs, spoiler twitching, and Megatron actually chuckles. He reaches up to squeeze Rodimus' arm, thumb gently brushing over the seam where his arm meets his shoulder's towering vents. Rodimus cycles his optics, mouth slanting downward, but the amusement in Megatron's field only becomes more pronounced.

"I think," Megatron murmurs, catching Rodimus' attention even with his soft, even toned voice, "you are becoming spoiled."

"And who's spoiling me?"

Megatron hums as Rodimus lies back down on top of him, and he can feel the low rumbling vibrations from the bigger mech's engine pulsing through his armor. "Drift, Ultra Magnus, Swerve. The list goes on." He lets Rodimus kiss him, mouth moving gently against his eager one, and he smooths fingers along Rodimus' lower spinal strut, teasing. "I'm the most guilty though, I suppose."

It's half-murmured against his mouth, and Rodimus revvs his engine. "Maybe someone should punish you for that," he says, full of promises, but Megatron's mouth is on him again, kissing in slow, chaste movements, bringing him back down.

"We should get ready for the day in a while," Megatron says, and curls his hand along the side of Rodimus' face. He turns to press a kiss into his palm, and Megatron watches, brushing his thumb gently against his jaw. "I already relented— we can rest for a little longer."

Rodimus hums before relenting too. He curls up on top of Megatron, resting his helm against the crook of his neck and shoulder, and smiles when he feels his arm wrap around his waist.

 

~*~

 

They shower together later, in the washracks after most everyone's gone.

They stand under their own separate shower heads, quiet as the water splashes down over them. There's no need for words here, and that's something new Megatron has brought to his world. Silence and reverence are new things for Rodimus, but impulsivity and idleness are new to Megatron too. He casts a glance over at the other mech. Megatron's helmet is off, set aside on a rack as he washes up. Rodimus' chestplates twitch at the sight, threatening to open. Megatron's standing with his optics offlined, letting the water soak into the grooves of his armor, an open and vulnerable posture that speaks volumes of his feelings, and sometimes Rodimus thinks the silence between them is louder than anything he's ever heard.

And they've both lost so much recently, learned so many things about the precarious and violent nature of their post-war era, full of strife and distrust still. But for the first time in a long time, here like this, disadvantaged even as they are in the universe, Rodimus feels good— really good— just knowing Megatron is still by his side.

He snaps out of his reverie when Megatron runs a finger along the slant of his spoiler, chuckling when Rodimus twitches from the ticklish sensation.

"The gears in your head are turning rather loudly," Megatron comments, voice careful, and his optics watch Rodimus with concern. "Would you like help drying off?"

Rodimus rolls his shoulders and turns his face up to catch the stream of water before he switches it off. He grins at him, pulses reassurance through his field, and snatches Megatron's hand. He squeezes his hand as he tugs him to the toweling area. He settles down on a bench, tightening his grip on his hand again when Megatron moves to reach for a clean towel. The former warlord stares at him pointedly, but Rodimus insistently squeezes his hand, demanding the contact. And Megatron relents, as he often does these days for Rodimus, and pulls a towel from the rack, keeping his fingers intertwined with his.

Rodimus hums a quiet human love song, something he heard on the radio, while Megatron presses the soft towel along the slant of his spoiler. He preens under the careful attention his conjunx gives him as Megatron carefully towels him dry, meticulous and soft, with languid actions. He leans into his touch, lets his field curl backwards against Megatron. He lets his optics offline as the towel presses almost reverently over the Autobot crest on his chest. Rodimus thinks he likes it best like this, when Megatron isn't rushed, isn't worrying about the future or ruminating on the past.

His field pulses with contentment, and he smiles when he feels Megatron's field mirroring his.

"No taking stock today," he teases, but his voice comes out fonder than he intends. "We've just gotten ourselves out of a big ordeal and I think we all need a break."

"Hmm," Megatron rubs the towel in along a biolight arch on his waist. "We should refuel soon," he says instead.

Rodimus smiles.

 

~*~

 

The mess hall is almost entirely empty. What with their vastly reduced crew, even on a smaller ship, it still seems bigger than it needs to be. Losing Skids and Ravage was... hard. But since then, they've welcomed a number of those from the Necroworld into their crew, such as Roller and Terminus, as well as some former Decepticons Megatron convinced to change their thinking.

Chromedome and Rewind are sitting together with Whirl, not surprisingly, being the nosy third wheel. He enjoys the romantic drama, apparently. He also spies Rung and Velocity sitting together with Terminus. Rodimus smiles, grateful that the two of the kindest mechs he knows are keeping a good eye on Terminus, who is still adjusting to the vastly different world around him. Megatron tenses by his side as he follows Rodimus' gaze.

"You should go talk to him," he says, looking up at the taller mech. "Things have been hectic as late, and I know you wanted to check in on him again."

Megatron's field brushes against his, revealing gratefulness, relief, and apology. Rodimus elbows him for the last emotion, disapproval in his field, and Megatron seems almost awkward as he sends reassurance back through his own field. He lingers on the fringes of their field space with a glance over his shoulder before he departs towards Terminus' table.

Rodimus grabs some energon and slides into a seat, sipping at it while he pings Drift.

"How's my favorite babe?" he croons through the private comm, and Drift's laugh answers him.

They talk while Rodimus sips at his energon leisurely. On the other side of the comm, Drift is training with Tailgate, who has recently become an ambitious warrior class mech. Cyclonus worries— he always does— but in some ways, it eases his mind slightly that Tailgate is now more than capable of fending for himself. Rodimus is glad. This new crew is tighter knit, and there's few secrets. Everyone is a lot closer, more trusting. Though he supposes there's still little love lost between Whirl and Cyclonus.

He makes Drift promise to watch a movie with him later, and huffs when Drift mentions Wing, the pair who've been nigh inseparable since Necrobot brought back the Circle of Light member.

He jolts when Megatron's frame appears in his view. He looks up to see the mech circling around the other side of the table to come to his side. He grins, shifting over to allow Megatron to sit by his side, and he hums around his straw when the mech's knee bumps against his own beneath the table.

"Hi handsome," Rodimus grins, nudging against Megatron's leg. Drift groans in his private comm and hangs up, already knowing that Megatron must have arrived.

Megatron inclines his head in greeting. "You're refueled?"

"Mostly!" Rodimus pulls away from his straw, prodding Megatron lightly in the elbow as he leans up. He smiles when the mech leans down and kisses him. Rodimus nudges his leg again beneath the table, fingers tightening along the crook of Megatron's elbow. His smile shifts into a grin when he tastes the lingering sweetness on Megatron's mouth. He always found it cute that the former Decepticon warlord had a surprising sweet tooth.

"How's Terminus?" he asks after they break apart.

Megatron hums when Rodimus presses his helm to his own. "He is well. The past two months have been tumultuous for him. However, the new crew we have forged here is strong."

"You guys are still good?"

"Yes."

"Good."

It feels weird to talk about Terminus, knowing how important the other mech is to Megatron, not unlike organics' concept of "family". He means it, every word, as he asks about the particulars of Megatron and Terminus' relationship and plans. The former miner's presence makes Megatron happy, sets him at ease and peace with himself, and that makes Rodimus happy too.

"We're wanted on the bridge," Megatron says, "We shouldn't dawdle."

"Is Mags upset?"

"Quite."

He pouts but Megatron nudges his knee to his again, the point of contact warm between them. He decides to kiss him again, and Megatron lets him.

 

~*~ 

 

Ultra Magnus lets them know that they will be nearing one of the few planets with a mechanical race that is not unfriendly to Cybertronians. He suggests that they drop by for a short while, both to refuel and for some shore leave. The crew just had a recent close encounter with a Galactic Council squadron, and while they made it out just fine, there's still some residual stress on the ship. They all agree some time off would be good and announce to the crew that they should be docking by the end of the day.

Rodimus waves Ultra Magnus off the bridge, declaring his shift to have ended.

"You should go make plans with your courting partner," he says, posturing with his hands on his hips and a grin wide on his face. His mischievousness bleeds through his field and Ultra Magnus sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, equal parts exasperated and embarrassed. "After all, shore leave is now just around the corner! We can handle things for a bit here. Much smaller crew after all. Less trouble," Rodimus cycles his optics, "unless Whirl is up to no good."

"As he often is," Magnus says dryly.

"At any rate," Rodimus grins, leaning against the former enforcer's arm, cheeky, "what I said stands. Go keep your courting partner company. Megs and I can handle ourselves."

Magnus looks down at him, unimpressed even as Rodimus feigns a sullen pout. "That is precisely what I worry about." His gaze flickers over to Megatron. "I worry he has grown soft on you and has let you get away with more of your bad decisions and poorly thought ahead antics."

Megatron doesn't defend himself, instead turning to the ship's controls, pointedly extricating himself from the conversation.

"And you?" Rodimus taunts, winking, "Aren't you soft on your favorite flame-decorated menace?" He shifts from leaning against him and flicks his finger against his armor lightly as he moves away. "Admit it, Mags, you love me."

"'Love' is a strong word," Magnus says again, voice still dry, but Rodimus can hear the prickle of amusement buried beneath. "A word I prefer to reserve for a certain other mech."

Rodimus gapes as Magnus pointedly turns on his heel and departs. He squabbles as the door closes behind the former enforcer. He joins Megatron at the front of the ship, flying into speculation and gossip about who else on the ship must be hooking up. Megatron humors him with an occasional snide comment or keen observation.

The planet they're going to dock on begins looming into view. It's a beautiful planet, a large one, brightly colored in red with orange and yellow accents. Megatron points out, wryly, it's just like Rodimus. He laughs at that, cycles his optics and insists his decorations have a little bit more design and intention behind them then just random swathes of paint. He points out some star patterns in the air instead, naming nonsensical ones while Megatron corrects him with the actual constellations.

"Rung!" Rodimus insists, pointing at one cluster of stars as they pass by. "You can _clearly_ see the eyebrows and glasses, Megs."

Megatron shakes his head, but there's still a lingering fondness in his field. He rolls his shoulders, stretching, and Rodimus' gaze flickers over him.

"Are we going to stay on the ship for shore leave?" he asks, "I'd rather not leave the ship unattended. Not exactly looking to get our ship's aft blasted by the Galactic Council while we're all out."

"I agree, that would not be wise. I'll stay."

"Then I'll stay too," Rodimus says, huffing an incredulous laugh to himself. "You know, I used to make fun of Chromedome and Rewind for being inseparable. Primus, now we're just as bad."

Megatron looks over at him, fond, warm, and Rodimus thinks this, even with all the hectic ongoings of their current life, is enough.

 

~*~

 

"You should go with Swerve. Megs and I already talked about watching the ship during shore leave."

Ultra Magnus smiles, head tilting just barely. Rodimus thinks, if he squints, it could look like a fond smile. The fringes of his field bump against Rodimus' and he can sense a faint thread of tenderness tucked away in its recesses. The larger mech resets his vocalizer with a click, folding his arms across his chest.

"Wing and I will watch the ship until Drift relieves me later, allowing us all of us time for shore leave."

Rodimus's optics shutter in a blink as he stares at him. "You mean it?"

Magnus' face has schooled itself back to careful neutrality, but there's warmth in his eyes when he reaches a hand out to squeeze his shoulder, between his towering vents and his neck. "You two deserve to have some fun."

"Did you just say 'fun' out loud?"

Magnus' mouth twitches at that, the barest hint of amusement in the fringe of his field.

Rodimus stares at him, a slow grin spreading on his lips. Magnus sighs and puts his other hand on his shoulders, turning him around and steering him away. "Go, Rodimus."

"But I want _details_ about you and Swerve," Rodimus whines, pushing his heels against the ground and leaning his weight back into Magnus.

He lets go of one of Rodimus' shoulders and hefts him up with a light shove on his back before pointing past his head. Rodimus follows the finger's direction to see Megatron talking to Drift and Velocity by the doors to the ship's docking ramp. His spark pulses sharp when the former warlord makes a gesture and Velocity laughs while Drift's shoulders shake just barely with a chuckle. Rod feels his spark swell in his chest. He glances back at Magnus, who nods his head towards the trio, and Rodimus is off running, shifting into his alt mode.

He shifts back and slides to a stop next to Drift, hipchecking him lightly as he does. The warrior quirks an amused smile at him, a silent question of 'what's gotten into you?' faint in Drift's field. He lets Drift sense the excitement in his and snuffles when his amica grins and hipchecks him back.

"Megs," he says. His field pulses with affection at Megatron's soft eyed look as he turns to regard him. He pointedly ignores Drift's open amusement in his field in response to sensing the affection in Rodimus'. "Magnus gave us shore leave permission."

"At this point, I think he runs the ship," his amica says, chuckling again.

"Wouldn't Swerve be his co-captain then?" Velocity giggles. She reaches over to touch Megatron's arm, squeezing him lightly. "Go! You and Rodimus should take some time off. It will be good for both of your mental health."

Megatron nods, and he turns to look at Rodimus again, offering his hand. "If you could extract yourself from your amica for awhile, I would like to keep you company."

"Only if I get him for a movie later," Drift teases, and Rodimus cycles his optics, leaning over to bump his forehead against his friend's shoulder playfully.

"Thanks for offering to help watch the ship."

Drift only smiles, "Go have fun, Rodimus."

He takes Megatron's hand, interlinking their fingers easily. It's no longer clumsy considering how much practice they've had. Megatron's field is more relaxed, and Rodimus hums when he senses the quiet pleased feelings of excitement within them.

And when he squeezes Megatron's hand, he squeezes back.


End file.
